


If you are chilly, here take my sweater

by whoistorule



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-14
Updated: 2012-10-14
Packaged: 2017-11-16 06:53:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/536696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whoistorule/pseuds/whoistorule
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alys Karstark & Jon Umber, Modern AU. (Fic for the RP <a href="http://bloodandglory-rp.tumblr.com">Blood and Glory</a>)</p>
            </blockquote>





	If you are chilly, here take my sweater

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dalyeau](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dalyeau/gifts).



It starts with the cereal. Alys is always bugging him about how he had sweets for breakfast, so one day he finally gets curious. What could it possibly be about the dry twiggy looking stuff that's more delicious than his bowl of chocolatey goodness? But, ah, he's a brave bloke, isn't he? No prickly looking bowl of brown could scare him, he's an Umber man.  
Pouring the milk in, Jon lifts his spoon to take an experimental bite and nearly chokes.

"What's that your coughing on there Jon?" Alys asks him, peering over his shoulder, her hair tickling his ear. "Is that my granola? But why are you eating it with milk? That can't be good."

"It's cereal!" Jon mumbles through a mouthful of surprisingly sharp granola, "It goes with milk!"

"It's granola," Alys corrects him, "it goes with yogurt and fruit and sometimes honey. You know, they have them at Costa, they're in the little plastic tupperware? I make my own because I don't like blueberries."

"You don't like blueberries? Who doesn't like blueberries?"

"Me, obviously." Alys whisks away his bowl, dumping it in the sink. As the garbage disposal whirred away the remains of his tragic breakfast, she began to pull out bowls and prepare them with layers of yogurt and granola and other things he couldn't see, but looked suspiciously like health food. "Look at you fixing breakfast for me like a regular homebody."

"Don't get used to it Umber, I don't cook."

It was just like her, to insist she wasn't going to take care of him, all the while doing so. She's been doing it since they moved in two weeks ago, going to the grocery store, arranging all the movers and well somehow they got a big telly and the license paid but he certainly wasn't a part of that. It was sweet, and almost… sexy. With other girls it might be mothering, but not with Alys, not with that wicked gleam in her eye. It was the same one she had that night in Rome when she bumped into him at the bar.

When Alys presents him with the bowl of what he has to admit is a much more appetizing breakfast, Jon closes his eyes and takes a big bite. It's surprisingly delicious, like crunchy yogurty ice cream. "Didn't I tell you you were missing out?" she teases, spooning a bite of yogurt through her red lips.

"I always knew you were a genius, Karstark. Much smarter than me."

They finish and Alys drops the bowls in the sink, grabbing her purse off the kitchen counter. "Oh, are we actually leaving at the same time this morning? Shocking." Jon just laughs and holds the door open for her, flipping the lights off as they walked down the stairs and into the sunshine.

"Oh no, let me," he says with an exaggerated flourish, hailing them a taxi at their corner. Alys just laughs. Her perfume wafts towards him and he sighs. Jon's stomach feels funny, but he doesn't feel like the yogurt. Ah well, by the time Alys and her long legs have disappeared round her door and he's done chatting with her tiny assistant, he feels fine again. Must have been the yogurt after all.

\--

The wiggle of Alys's hips as she tries to reach for the wine glasses on the top shelf could drive him nearly to distraction. As always, she's looking bloody gorgeous in something dark blue-ish, and every time she reaches upwards, her skirt rides up just a little bit. But as much as his dick wishes it wouldn't, his more gallant instincts kick in and he steps in for her, grabbing the glasses with ease.

"Just trying to help a mate out," he says as she slings an arm around his neck, kissing him squarely on the cheek. There was her perfume again, and the damp ghost of her lips on his cheek. He touches it absently as she pours their wine, smiling to herself. "Come on, Umber, X-Factor's about to start!" He sighs and follows her, accepting the glass of wine and his place on the couch.

By the second glass of wine, she's laying on his lap, looking up at him, telling him some story about her assistant and a Targaryen and a bit fancy party she's not going to, and his stomach's upset again. But it's not the wine.

It's more like.

Shit. 

It's more like Joanna.

Well. That sucks.

\--

"The news of the world says that the Olympics is gonna cost us a whole lot of money," Jon announces confidently from his perch at their kitchen island, rocking his weight from side to side, leaning his chair too and fro.

"Since when do you care about the news of the world, Umber?" Alys asks, placing her phone on the counter and picking back up her bowl of granola. They've long since given up going to coffee shops, and he's got a cup of coffee sitting in front of him. Coffee! Real coffee! It may be loaded up with milk and sugar, but it's not got whipped cream on it. It's become their routine, breakfast together, and then off to work. It should scare him, make him feel like he's grown too old, but Jon finds that he doesn't mind domesticity when it comes to Alys. He likes the way she looks at him from across the kitchen, already standing in her heels, phone in one hand, coffee cup in the other.

"I care about the news!" Jon says, his cereal crunching as he talks out of the side of his mouth.

"Does it make me a terrible person if I don't?" Alys asks, and Jon just grins.

"All right I admit it, I don't really either." It was a relief. Truth was, he thought it might impress Alys if he read the morning paper, but it bored him. Should have known a doll like Alys wouldn't want that. She had more interesting things on her mind.

"Daddy Umber on your back again?"

"What? Oh, yeah, yeah, you know the Greatjon, he wants me to take on more responsibility." Alys laughs, her chin tilted up exposing the long line of her throat, down to the swell of her breasts and Jon snaps his eyes up, grinning sheepishly, grateful she hadn't caught on to his real reasons.

"Well don't, that stuff will rot your brain. Much better to watch trashy TV with me."

Much better to be doing everything with you, really, he wants to say, but instead he just shovels another bite of granola into his mouth."

\--

Alys shivers next to him on the couch, her thin arms quivering slightly as she takes a bite of chocolate ice cream.

"Are you cold?" He asks, spooning himself a bite of mint chocolate chip.

"Well I am eating ice cream," she shrugs, taking another bite, her tongue darting against the silver spoon, licking it clean. Jon struggles not to close his eyes, his brain already whirring with a million things that tongue could do. Cool it Umber, he thinks, you're just mates, remember?

Another spoonful and she shivers again. They're sitting so close, he can feel her goosepimples against his exposed arm, her shoulder brushing up along his rolled up sweater. Placing his ice cream bowl on the coffee table, he raises his arms above his head and fights with his sweater, finally pulling it off with a triumphant oomph.

"Are you hot?" she asks, bemused with the state of his hair, his cotton t-shirt having ridden halfway up his stomach in the struggle.

"No, you were cold, I thought I would give you my sweater…" Jon trails off as Alys looks at him like he's grown another head.

"That's very sweet dear but there's a blanket on the edge of the couch, I think I'm good."

"Right, a blanket, of course."

"Some days, I just don't know where your head is at," Alys laughs, a drop of chocolate ice cream staining her chin, and Jon grabs his bowl, his hands shaking with the effort not to kiss it away. Instead he grabs her bowl from her lap as she protests, taking a huge bite of chocolate for himself, hoping it will be enough to satiate his apetite.

(It isn't.)

\--

He comes back from his parents house with yet another lecture from his mother about how Alys was the perfect girl and they were already living together why didn't he just ask her out, a question he had been asking himself far too much lately, and a box of homemade biscuits and he only eats three on the way home. It's an improvement, really. Last time he ate nearly half. Even Alys notices, commenting on how considerate it was for him to actually leave her a biscuit or two this time.

"Well what are mates for?" he asks, looping his arm around her waist, and she smiles, taking a bite of biscuit that left a trail of crumbs all along the black fuzzy fabric of her sweater. He glances sidelong at the front of her sweater, where he's a pretty good view of the deep V of her cleavage. He wants feel how soft her sweater is, wants to peel back the black top and lick the crumbs off her bare chest wants to--

"Are you okay Jon?" Alys asks, nudging his hip playfully.

"Yeah yeah, what, fine."

"Well if you find my neckline so distracting maybe I'll have to wear less revealing clothing," Alys teases, her eyes dancing.

"Maybe the problem is that you aren't revealing enough," Jon suggests with a cheeky grin. The words are out before he can stop them, but Alys just laughs.

"Yeah that's it isn't it. You're staring at the skin I'm not showing. Shall I just take this off then, give you a proper look."

"Well I'm not going to say no to that."

"Jon!" She swats at his arm and he stumbles into her, spilling her hot tea on to her sweater. "Now I've really got to take it off."

"What, here?" he asks, "all right." Protesting as his hot flatmate strips was never going to be something Jon would say no to. And strip she does, off goes the sweater, revealing some sort of black lace contraption that Jon can't look away from. It's so dark against the pale of her skin, his heart thumps and his cock twitches and Alys raises her eyebrows at him. 

"Got yourself an eyeful there Umber?"

"Fuck you're beautiful Alys."

She blushes, her cheeks flushing pink in the light of their kitchen and smiles. "Thanks Jon."

"No I mean it, you're really fucking beautiful." Slowly, he takes the tea cup and the damp sweater out of her hands, placing them on the counter.

"What are you doing, Jon," she asks.

"Freeing your hands so I can kiss you properly," he says, tugging her to him to press his lips to hers, in a gasping kiss. Her body responds immediately, her arms curling around his neck, her lips parting beneath his, and he stumbles forward until her back hits the edge of the island. "Sorry," he mumbles, but before he can resume kissing her, Alys's finger obstructs him.

"Jon. What are you doing?"

"I want to kiss you."

"Jon I know we flirt a lot, but this could end really poorly, we live together, we could get emotionally involved." Alys wrings her hands together, her thigh pressing against the bulge in his trousers.

"Okay," he says impatiently.

"Okay what?"

"Okay, let's get emotionally involved."

"Jon I'm telling you this could end really poorly."

"Alys do you like me?"

"What? Yes of course I like you."

"Do you want to keep kissing me?"

"Well, yes," she allows, licking her red lips.

"Then Christ, Alys, will you shut up and let me kiss you already?"

She does, her lips meeting his halfway as he half lifts her onto the island. Jon's tongue slides against hers as she nips at his lips, her fingers running through his hair, pulling him closer to her. He gasps as she breaks the kiss, his mouth finding her jaw, the line of her neck, the curve of her breasts. With an expert tug and release, he frees Alys from the constrains of her bra, and she smiles, making little gasping noises as his tongue flicks against her nipple. Her gasp turns to a moan as he sucks at her breast, one hand wrapped around her, the other working to unbuckle his belt.

When his trousers drop to the ground, he steps out of them, but before he can start to tug at Alys's skirt, she laughs, lifting his head from her breast. "We have two bedrooms like 20 meters away," she says, sliding off the counter and wrapping her legs around his waist.  
They make it to the couch before Jon can't take it anymore. Lowering her to the couch, he tugs her skirt down as she pulls at his boxers, squirming out of their clothes as fast as they can. Jon raises his arms and Alys kisses him, lifting his shirt above his head.

Her fingers find the head of his cock, running lightly against it as he groans, pinning her against the couch in a deep kiss. Slowly she strokes him as he kisses her; he can feel himself growing harder. Jon groans against her, his own hands dragging to her cunt. With deft circular movements, his thumb works at her clit as slowly he sinks a finger into her cunt, and then two. Her gasps turn to moans and her own hands grow more rapid, stroking him with urgency. "Fuck, Jon," she says, her nipples brushing against his chest, making him harder, "fuck me."

She doesn't have to command him twice. Alys wraps her legs around his waist as he thrusts into her, her wet cunt clenching around him with every jolt of his hips, every slide of his cock between her folds. Lest no one ever say he didn't know how to please a lady, Jon slips his hand between their legs, his fingers rolling against her clit, fucking her with his hand to the rhythm of his hips.

"Faster," she commands, and he's quick to comply, their hips banging together with an obscene, wet, smack, and she kisses him as she comes, her name on his lips.

"Well," Alys says, as Jon collapses against her chest, his breath hot on her breasts, his hand splayed against the flat of her stomach. "I think I'm going to start spilling tea on myself more often. Like, every day. How does that sound, Jon?"

"Sounds good to me," he says with a smile on his lips. It sounded pretty fucking perfect.


End file.
